


Admittedly, Unexpected

by tinymacaroni



Series: Witcher smut [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Coming Untouched, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, buff jaskier rights, he's a buff and fuzzy boy and i love him, listen. listen. jaskier is not small, witcher stamina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymacaroni/pseuds/tinymacaroni
Summary: Buff! Jaskier! Rights!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher smut [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660198
Comments: 22
Kudos: 566





	Admittedly, Unexpected

Geralt himself had never been terribly modest on their travels. After years spent with his fellow wolves in Kaer Morhen, it just wasn't something he cared about. And besides, Jaskier had tended to wounds on so many places on his body, and had helped him wash several times, after some particularly exhausting and disgusting hunts. So, no, Geralt was not terribly modest, and by this point Jaskier had seen every inch of his naked form more than once. But Geralt knew that humans tended to be much more…  _ awkward _ about such things, so he had always been sure to give Jaskier his privacy, trying to give him at least this one courtesy consistently. Which meant he was  not prepared for the sight before him.

"You're… Hmm."

"Ah yes, what every man hopes to hear from his lover after stripping for them." They were in an inn that night, for the first time since Geralt had finally gotten his head out of his arse and confessed his feelings to Jaskier.

"No, I mean - I just expected you would be… smaller. Overall. And smoother." Jaskier was perched on the bed, and Geralt stood before him, looking at him with a strange, thoughtful sort of gaze.

"Well, I'm not. I admit I do try to project that sort of image, though. My tailor, bless her, has helped a lot with that. The rest, well… people see what they want to see. And if what they want to see is some young, naive little thing they can buy the favor of, I certainly won't dissuade them." Twenty-odd years had left him significantly more confident around Geralt than he'd honestly ever expected, and he levelled him with a challenging gaze. "Is it a problem?"

" _ Gods _ no," Geralt breathed. As Jaskier had spoken, the witcher had been raking his eyes up and down the bard's body, taking in every detail. His arms were the first thing that had surprised him; they were thick, well-muscled and strong. And his chest, two pink, pert nipples surrounded by thick, dark hair, which thinned out on his stomach before forming a trail down from his navel, and  _ oh. _ Geralt had tried not to make any assumptions about what Jaskier's cock might be like, but even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered. All preconceptions he may have had flew out the window when his eyes landed on Jaskier's cock - it was  _ beautiful. _ Geralt didn't even know how a cock  _ could _ be beautiful, and yet, here it was.

Lust wasn't the only thing driving his gaze, though, and curiosity drew his eye to the smaller things, too. All the scars he had gathered in their various misadventures, moles dotting his skin, light freckling across his shoulders from his time on the coast. There were stories written across his skin, some Geralt knew, some he looked forward to learning.

Jaskier pulled him from his reverie, quite literally, tugging his arms to move him towards the bed. Despite all the evidence before him, the witcher was still surprised at just how  _ strong _ the bard was. He probably wouldn't have been able to move him if he resisted, but he had no intentions of resisting  _ this. _

"So," Jaskier grinned, moving one hand down to palm Geralt's cock, already half hard and quickly filling further at the bard's touch. "I take it you like the view?" All Geralt could manage was a nod, eyes fluttering closed as Jaskier began to move his hand, stroking slowly, softly. He stood, Geralt's cock still in hand, and pushed the witcher down onto the bed with just the one arm. Geralt went more than willingly, the strength of the push unnecessary but appreciated. 

Jaskier reclaimed his hand to arrange Geralt to his liking, propped up against the pillows, legs spread wide. "Beautiful," he said, taking in the sight before him.

"Hmm." Geralt did not particularly consider himself "beautiful," but he also wasn't going to argue with the bard. He resisted the urge to avert his gaze, feeling admittedly and oddly a little  _ shy. _ It wasn't the first time Jaskier had seen him nude, and it wasn't the first time he'd been spread like this for a man, but the two together made a powerful combination. He made himself look at Jaskier, though, and was grateful he did - the sight of the bard's beautiful lips stretched around his cock was  _ not _ something he would soon forget.

Jaskier bobbed up and down, taking the (rather impressive) length bit by bit. Geralt tangled his hands into Jaskier’s hair, gentle at first, stroking the soft strands between his fingers. Then Jaskier gave a quick, strong suck to the head of his cock, and the witcher's hands tightened to fists in his hands, pulling a moan from the bard that Geralt could  _ feel. _ Jaskier nuzzled into snow white curls as he took the last inch into his mouth, and Geralt's hips began to buck, desperate for more of that soft, wet heat. Jaskier stilled him easily, hands coming up to press down on his thighs, and Geralt's cock twitched in his mouth at the small display of strength.

Jaskier was, to no surprise, good with his mouth. What was surprising was how easily he took Geralt deep into his throat - his length was impressive but still reasonable, but he was thick, thick enough to have been turned away at a brothel more than once. Still, Jaskier seemed to be managing just fine, and that was perfectly alright by Geralt. More than alright, he could feel that hot, tight coiling in his gut, muscles twitching here and there as he tried to stave off his orgasm.

"Jaskier, Jaskier I'm-" He tugged at the bard's hair again, this time trying to guide Jaskier  _ off _ his cock, not wanting to fill his mouth without his say-so. Blue eyes looked up into his, though, and Jaskier slowly and deliberately swallowed around his cock, his meaning clear, but Geralt still worried. "Are you sure? It's… a lot. More than most." Jaskier rolled his eyes, pulling back, knowing Geralt wasn't going to settle for anything less than verbal consent.

"I am  _ very _ sure I want you to come down my throat, yes. Now may I resume sucking your cock?" His voice was just a tad raspy, and Geralt's cock pulsed at the sound, achingly hard and desperate for Jaskier's mouth to return. Geralt nodded, and Jaskier took the full sight in for just a moment, the taut muscles in his core, the golden eyes that had turned a dark amber, pupils blown wide. He bent his head back down, managing to take Geralt in one fluid motion this time, and he thought he heard something like a whine come from Geralt's throat. Jaskier's hands pressed down harder on his hipbones as he tried once again to fuck up into that perfect mouth. It didn't take long from there, and Geralt came with a rough sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, grasping desperately at Jaskier's hair as each pulse of his cock sent more of his spend down the bard's throat. Jaskier did pull back as the last wave hit Geralt, and a bit of come ran down his chin. Geralt wiped it off with his thumb, gently caressing Jaskier's cheek with the rest of his hand. His spent cock gave a valiant twitch, though, as Jaskier licked the white, sticky fluid off his hand.

"Fuck," Geralt breathed, chest heaving.

"I mean that was the plan, yes. Assuming you're amenable?"

"I'm more than amenable, little lark." Jaskier had not blushed during a single moment of nakedness and sex, but his cheeks tinged pink at the use of the pet name. "If we're making assumptions, though, I take it you'll be doing the fucking?"

"Well, I don't see how you'd be able to anyway, considering you just- oh." His eyes followed Geralt's finger as he pointed to his cock, already mostly hard again. "Oh. Okay then."

"Witcher stamina." Geralt allowed himself a small grin, watching the cogs turn in Jaskier's brain as he processed that information.

"Well, filing that away for later. Anyway, er, as I was saying. As much as I  _ absolutely _ want your cock in my body in every way you're willing to give it to me-" He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath as he watched Geralt's cock responding to his words. "That would require an amount of preparation I am simply not patient enough for right now. But I do want to make sure, is that alright with you?"

"I'm the one who suggested it."

"You suggest a lot of things you don't actually want to do. You've got a heroic martyrdom…  _ thing _ going on, and it's bigger than the whole kingdom of Cintra."

"I wouldn't go that far-"

" _ Geralt. _ "

The witcher heaved a world-weary sigh before looking directly at Jaskier, gold meeting blue. "Yes, I consent to and  _ want _ you to fuck me. Tonight, here, and preferably again in the future." Jaskier leaned forward, kissing him softly, and was it strange that he was turned on by the taste of himself on Jaskier's lips?

"Was that so hard?"

"I've been spending too much time with you, I just thought of about six terrible jokes I could have made there."

Jaskier chuckled as he went to grab a vial of oil from his pack. All of his oils were scented, and they would be using a decent amount, so he grabbed the three most lightly perfumed ones and brought them all to Geralt.

"Are you planning to use  _ all _ of that? I promise you I've been fucked before, I don't need quite that much oil."

"You're right, you have been spending too much time with me, I think that was two whole sentences strung together. But no, I… wanted to make sure that whatever we used wouldn't, you know, be too strong for you. I know how you are with smells." Again, that pink flush came rising into his cheeks, and Geralt just sat there for a moment, surprised by the thoughtfulness and then mad at himself for being surprised. Jaskier had been clumsy and far too much sometimes when they first travelled together, but these days he was usually quite careful about not overwhelming the witcher's senses.

A typical “hmm” was about all he could manage at the moment, and he reached out and accepted the three colored bottles. Of course his oils would be color coded. He uncapped each in turn and gave them a quick sniff, eventually selecting a small blue bottle that smelled faintly of cedar, rosemary, and chamomile. Not only was it a subtle scent, it was also the closest to how Jaskier typically smelled - though right now, he smelled almost entirely of musky arousal.

Geralt set the other two vials on the table beside the bed, handing the blue one to Jaskier, who had been watching him with a soft fondness in his eyes. It was largely replaced with lust, though, when he took the bottle and remembered what it was for. He took one of the pillows from behind Geralt, tucking it under the witcher's scarred, gorgeous hips. Geralt shifted to adjust his position with the new pillow arrangement, and when he was satisfied and comfortable he looked back to Jaskier.

"Shall I?" Geralt gave a hummed assent, anticipation seemingly having stolen his words again. Jaskier spread his thighs slowly, marvelling as he always did at how someone so large and muscular could be so flexible. When they were spread to his satisfaction and he got Geralt’s knees up, he poured a bit of slick into his hand, closing it into a fist for a moment to warm it. While it wasn't actually terribly cold, witchers ran at a higher temperature than humans, and while Geralt was not typically affected by cold, he could still feel it. Particularly when it was somewhere not typically exposed to the cold.

When he decided the oil was warm enough, and Geralt's impatience was etched on his face, Jaskier slowly circled a finger around his hole, smiling to himself when Geralt's head fell back and he let out what sounded like a sigh of gratitude and relief.

Jaskier slowly slid his finger into the witcher, probably slower than Geralt was used to by the way he rolled his hips forward, clearly trying to fuck himself on Jaskier's finger. Again, Jaskier used his free hand to still Geralt's hips, and he swore he heard the witcher  _ whine. _ When he was seated up to the last knuckle, he added more slick and a second finger, using his thumb to lightly tease around the rim. The second finger moved no faster than the first, nor did the third. He pulled back just a little bit, searching for-

" _ Fuck! _ "

There it was. Geralt's hips bucked hard enough that Jaskier had no chance of holding them still, and he was pleased to find his witcher was so…  _ sensitive. _ He stroked that spot again, and again, until Geralt's heavy breathing turned to breathy moans, his back arched off the bed and his hands curled into tight fists, clutching the bedsheet.

Jaskier removed his fingers, and that was  _ definitely _ a whine he heard just then. He poured yet more oil into his hand, deliberately ignoring Geralt’s insistence that he hurry up.

“You will find, my dearest wolf, that I am not typically a hurried sort of lover.” So saying, he lined himself up carefully and pushed gently, starting by burying just the head of his cock in the witcher - both because he was a tease, and because the tight heat around him was briefly overwhelming. He grasped Geralt’s hips, ostensibly for leverage but mostly to steady himself, and began fucking him shallowly, going just a little deeper on each achingly slow thrust. Geralt was moving as well, meeting Jaskier’s thrusts and trying to pull him in further. Jaskier let him this time, but stilled his hips again once he was all the way inside. He stayed there for a moment, leaning down to kiss the scarred, slightly fuzzy skin of the witcher’s stomach, biting gently into the soft layer of fat resting over his taut muscles. He felt Geralt tighten around him as he did, heard the soft curse on his lips, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep himself together. He was  _ not _ going to come with actually properly fucking Geralt first.

“Would. You.  _ Move. _ ” Speaking of fucking Geralt… Jaskier pulled almost all the way out, thrusting back in fast and  _ hard. _ There was nothing soft about it when Geralt cursed this time, and Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle a little at his reaction, and Geralt shot him what he intended to be a scathing glare, but there was no real fury behind it, just  _ want. _

Jaskier pulled Geralt’s thighs up, pushing forward against them, knowing that he wasn’t strong enough to actually injure the witcher no matter how hard he pushed, which gave him a convenient source of leverage as he began to fuck Geralt the way he wanted: fast, hard, and deep. The noises he pulled from the white wolf’s lips were absolutely  _ sinful, _ and he delighted in every single one. He watched Geralt, too, how his hands grabbed at the sheets, how his face twisted with pleasure. Gods, he was incredible.

Jaskier knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not like this, so he adjusted their angle, the head of his cock now dragging firmly over Geralt’s prostate on each thrust. If the noises he’d been making before were sinful, the ones he made now were divine, no one but the gods could possibly sound that good. Whimpering moans, curses, and the best of all, Jaskier’s name - over, and over, and over.

“Fuck, fuck Jaskier don’t- don’t stop,” he pleaded, and the desperate edge to his voice drove Jaskier to go just a little faster, a little harder. The word “please” had made its way into Geralt’s limited vocabulary now, and Jaskier basked in it. He watched Geralt unravel under him, watched him come apart into a thousand tiny pieces, watched him come to- well, watched him come. Geralt’s back arched the other way now, curling in on himself as he came, covering himself in the stuff as it splashed onto his stomach, his chest. 

Jaskier didn’t know which was hotter: watching Geralt come without touching his cock, seeing him covered in his own spend, or the way he spasmed and tightened around Jaskier. Whatever the case, it was enough to tip Jaskier over the edge himself, stars bursting behind his eyelids. He kept moving in small, shallow thrusts until it was too much, panting and collapsing on top of Geralt without thinking.

“Oh. Oh that’s unpleasant.” He shifted to the side a bit and grimaced down at the sticky mess that now covered his own torso as well, and Geralt let out a snort that could almost be called a laugh. “I mean it was really fucking hot when it happened but now. Eugh.”

“I find that’s the case with most things that happen during sex.”

“Yes, well. That’s the price we pay, I suppose.” Jaskier hummed happily, a little tune he’d been working on lately so it was stuck in his head, and kissed Geralt’s cheek. “I should really go get some rags and hot water, we ought to clean all of this up.” When he said “this,” he gestured vaguely at the sticky mess between them. Geralt wrapped his arms loosely around Jaskier, holding him but not tightly.

“What if I don’t want you to get up?”

“I will remind you - or perhaps inform you, depending on your experiences I suppose - that semen is  _ significantly _ harder to clean up when it’s dried.”

“Hmm.” Geralt pulled his arms back, and Jaskier pulled out of him slowly, getting a hiss and the smallest hint of a whimper from Geralt, and shivering himself. He kissed Geralt’s cheek once more before standing, legs still a little shaky, and crossed the room, grabbing a basin of water he’d filled earlier and a couple of rags he usually had in his pack. He was nothing if not prepared. He wiped himself down first, possibly selfish but he didn’t quite care right now, and tossed that rag into the corner of the room. He’d have to see if this inn had a washboard they’d let him use.

Returning to the bed, he paused for just a moment, taking in the sight before him: Geralt, covered in patches of sticky white, still in more or less the same position but looking more relaxed than Jaskier had seen him in years. He shook himself from his thoughts and dipped one of the cloths in the water, wiping Geralt down gently, lovingly. Something in Geralt ached, being  _ cared for _ like this, but he knew that was simply part of who Jaskier was. He cared. And Geralt loved that about him, loved so much about him, but love was still a challenging emotion for him to navigate. He watched Jaskier, listened to the tune he had started humming again, and a small smile made its way to his lips - though it was quickly replaced by a tight-lipped grimace as Jaskier made his way between the witcher’s legs.

“I know love, I know.” Jaskier paused to push a strand of snow white hair behind Geralt’s ear, and his voice was soft and soothing. Whatever had been aching inside Geralt before, it swelled to bursting when Jaskier called him “love.” He couldn’t decide if he liked the sensation or not, but he knew he liked Jaskier’s affections themselves.

Soon he was finished, and added a couple more rags to the pile in the corner before joining Geralt on the bed. The witcher had not moved, except to lower and close his legs, and Jaskier curled up beside him, resting his head on Geralt’s chest. His fingers idly traced scars, old and new. Most of them he knew. Some of them Geralt didn’t want to talk about.

“Thank you.” Geralt’s voice broke the silence between them - not something that happened often.

“Hm?”

“The oils. The… the scents. You cared and you thought it through. And then, cleaning up, I just- hmm. Thank you, Jaskier.”

“Geralt, I love you. Of course I thought of those things. Of course I washed you after fucking you, I certainly wasn’t going to make you get up and do it yourself.” Geralt snorted again at this, in that way that was almost a laugh, which Jaskier knew was high comedic praise from his witcher. “But those things shouldn’t be… I mean, we’ve been travelling together for over two decades, and I’ve loved you all that time. Those are the sorts of things people do when they love someone, though of course everyone shows it in a different way.” Jaskier frowned a little and looked up at Geralt, who was doing his best not to meet Jaskier’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I’ve never done those kinds of things for you. I should. You deserve it.”

Now it was Jaskier’s turn to laugh - exasperated and fond, shaking his head as he sat up some so he could look at Geralt properly. “Geralt, look at me. Come on, look at me, love.” Hesitantly, Geralt met his eyes, and that ache returned when he saw all the love behind them. “Geralt, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You’ve shared your food and your fire with me, helped me out of trouble that I brought upon myself, you listen to me ramble on about every little thing. That  _ is _ you doing those kinds of things. It’s like I said, everyone does it differently.” He leaned down to kiss Geralt softly, before the witcher could weasel in any self-deprecating disagreement.

Jaskier pulled away first, though he was reluctant. Unfortunately, he needed to breathe a little more often than Geralt did. They kissed again, and again, until Jaskier noticed Geralt’s eyelids drooping, and realized he was also more than ready for sleep. Amazing, really, how distracting a nice kiss can be. He picked up the blanket from where they’d kicked it off the bed, laying it over them as best he could and settling back into his spot against Geralt’s chest. “Let’s sleep.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier blew out the candle on the table, just barely able to see the glint of moonlight from the window reflecting off of Geralt, highlighting the planes and angles of his shape. He knew Geralt could see him perfectly fine, and wondered idly if Geralt had ever seen somebody the way Jaskier saw him now - a collection of rough shapes and fuzzy lines, a suggestion of a person. Probably not. Perhaps Jaskier could pick up some paper and charcoal somewhere, or some paints, so he could show Geralt the world he saw at night.

“I’m… glad.”

“Of?” Jaskier lifted his head, curious where this was going. Geralt had been more open in general lately, but tonight he had been especially so, and Jaskier honestly hadn’t expected to hear anymore from him until tomorrow at least, once they settled the “showing your love” thing.

“That you’re… you. That you’re this.” Geralt lightly squeezed a firm bicep, and ran his hand through the hair on his chest. “I mean, I would have been glad no matter what you looked like under all those doublets. But this was… a nice surprise.”

“Oh.” Jaskier was never particularly embarrassed about his body, defy expectations as it did. He quite enjoyed his looks, even, and he knew plenty of past lovers had as well. Hell, Geralt wasn’t even the first to comment on it. But coming from Geralt, words that had carried no weight before suddenly meant  _ everything. _ He knew Geralt could feel, could hear his heart pounding, and the witcher seemed concerned.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have sai-” Jaskier silenced him with a kiss, a move Geralt had used on him far too often. Not that Jaskier was complaining.

“Don’t be sorry. I wasn’t upset, it was just… very nice to hear. Moreso than I would have expected it to be.” He kissed Geralt again, a quick peck, and laid back down. “For the record, I’m glad you’re you as well. Now go to sleep. As much as I’m enjoying this sudden flood of emotion from you, I’m tired and I know you are too.” Geralt hummed in agreement, and they fell asleep together - the only way either of them wanted to fall asleep again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post involving several people, but primarily @taketheshot21 and @flootzavut, which can be found here if you are so inclined: https://flootzavut.tumblr.com/post/615919798409379840/i-would-a-thousand-percent-read-this


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